


Could Be Our Final Act

by GotTheSilver



Series: Supernatural Codas [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Episode: s12e04 American Nightmare, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: 12.04 coda*
  “He doesn’t appear to have resurfaced,” Cas says, sighing.  “And I that means I have to carry on working with Crowley.”

  “You don’t have to,” Dean says.  “Sam and I could—”

  “You have other work to do,” Cas interrupts.  “I’ll try not to kill Crowley.”

  “I mean, you could.  If your angel blade slipped, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com/post/152814564052/1204-coda-deancas-g-15k).

The motel just outside Omaha isn’t anything special, but Dean’s been running on empty for the past few days, so when Sam points it out, Dean pulls the Impala in and gets a room for them. There’s a slight chill in the air, and Dean’s kneeling on the ground, fiddling with the ancient heater against the wall, rearing back when it makes a disturbing rattling sound.

“I’m gonna grab some food from the burger place we passed,” Sam says, standing back by his bed and grabbing his coat. “Try not to blow the place up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get me a bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon.”

“With a side of heart attack?”

Dean snorts. “Sure, if it’s free. Fries, if not.”

Sam rolls his eyes with a smile before he heads out. Satisfied that the heater isn’t going to burst into flames, Dean gets back to his feet, hissing at the ache in his knees as he makes his way over to the bed, he sits on the edge of the bed to sort out his laundry. It doesn’t take that long, the case might’ve involved a couple of outfit changes, but there’s nothing worse than some mud and blood which, by this point, Dean is an expert at getting out. After he’s done, Dean contemplates investigating what the bathroom is like when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It’s Cas’ number and face on the screen—a photo of him on Dean’s bed in the bunker—and Dean half smiles at the image before swiping the screen to answer.

“Sam says you almost killed someone,” are the first words Dean hears when he answers the phone.

“Nice to talk to you too, Cas,” he says. “And I didn’t almost kill anyone, Sam’s exaggerating.”

“He also said a woman gave you her number.”

Dean pulls his leg up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a small smile creeping on his face. “Jealous?”

“You’re exasperating at times,” Cas says. “I assume you know that?”

“It was the same person,” Dean says, the warmth in Cas’ voice making some kind of peace settle in his chest. “Who I may or may not have almost killed, and who gave me her number, it was the same person. Beth.”

“Did Beth know you tried to kill her before she gave you her number?”

“What kind of people do you think I attract? Wait, don’t answer that,” Dean quickly adds. Rolling his ankle and wincing slightly, he shakes his head. “How are things with Crowley?”

Castiel sighs. “He’s aggravating. I don’t like travelling with him at all.”

“Worse than being stuck in a car with Sammy after he’s eaten a burrito?”

“Crowley keeps talking about his... relations with Naomi. It’s disturbing.”

“Thanks for that Cas, as if the creepy religious shit I had to deal with today wasn’t enough, now I’m definitely going to have nightmares.” Dean rubs the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Aside from Crowley and his stories, you found anything new on Lucifer?”

“He doesn’t appear to have resurfaced,” Cas says, sighing. “And I that means I have to carry on working with Crowley.”

“You don’t _have_ to,” Dean says. “Sam and I could—”

“You have other work to do,” Cas interrupts. “I’ll try not to kill Crowley.”

“I mean, you could. If your angel blade slipped, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Dean.”

“What? I wouldn’t.” Cas laughs at that, and Dean relaxes against the too soft motel mattress. “Seriously, Cas, how’re you doing? You didn’t have to go, I mean—seems like everyone is going off and working alone now.”

“Lucifer is my responsibility, Dean, Rowena’s sent him away for now, but he will come back and I need to be ready for that.”

Dean runs his fingers against the bedspread before wrinkling his nose. “You will be ready,” he says. “Look, you said you’re waiting for him to resurface, but you can’t do anything until then, and you can’t predict where he’s gonna show up, so ditch Crowley and come back to the bunker.” He pauses before adding, “come back to _me_ ,” his voice lower, not sure if he wants Cas to hear that or not.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Cas?”

“How long until you’re back at the bunker?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, early evening at the latest.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean asks. “What does—”

“I’ll see you at the bunker tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? You don’t—”

“Are you telling me you don’t want me home?” There’s a touch of exasperation in Cas’ voice, and Dean can’t help but smile, knowing that by tomorrow he’ll have him home.

“Of course I do. I just want you to be doing this for you, not for me.”

“Being on the road with Crowley is not my first choice of things to do in life,” Cas says. “I want to find Lucifer, need to find him, but you make good points.”

“Hell yeah I do,” Dean says with a grin. “I—I’ll be happy to have you back, you get that, right?”

“Of course. You seem better than the last time we spoke.”

“Yeah, uh, mom got in touch with me. Said she’s doing okay.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I guess,” Dean says, letting out a sigh, looking around at the walls of the motel, the shitty landscape art staring at him from above the table. “I don’t like it, Cas. I don’t like anyone I care about being out there by themselves, especially since she doesn’t know about this world and—” he breaks off, shaking his head. “ _Fuck_. She’ll be okay, right? Tell me she’ll be okay?”

“She will, and if she’s not, she’ll know who to call for help.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I guess.”

“Dean, Crowley’s coming back to the car, I should go.”

“Gotta tell him you’re dumping him for a better looking model?”

“Yes, Dean, this entire trip to find Lucifer has been a cover for my wild affair with Crowley.”

“I think a little bit of puke just came up in my mouth, Cas.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

The call ends and Dean opens his messages, wondering if he should text his mom again; he’s not sure how much contact will be too much, if he risks driving her away again, but he also wants her to know that he’s always gonna be around for her if she needs him. After looking at the last message she sent him for a moment longer, Dean sighs and puts his phone down on the bedside table, looking up as the door opens.

“Got food,” Sam says as he walks through the door.

“Beer?”

Sam eyes him as he hands the bag to Dean. “You really want to be drinking?”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean says, pulling the polystyrene box out of the bag and opening it. “Totally emotionally healthy, nothing wrong with me wanting a beer.”

“There’s some in the cooler in the car,” Sam says, sitting at the small table by the fridge, the height of the chair meaning his knees bash against the underside. “I’m not going to get them.”

Dean sighs, lips falling into a slight pout before he shakes his head and picks up his burger. “S’fine, I’ll deal.”

The burger isn’t half bad, the bacon crispy rather than soggy, and the fries have actual seasoning on instead of a shitload of salt. Dean hadn’t realised how hungry he was, and before he realises it, there’s an empty box in front of him. “Hey,” Dean says as he wipes his fingers on his jeans and looks over at Sam. “Cas is coming home tomorrow.”

“Huh,” Sam says. “Good.”

“Yeah. At least someone’s coming home,” Dean says, getting up and throwing his trash away.

“Dean—”

“Don’t. She says she’s okay and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is this you being less of a dick?”

“If I’m not talking, I can’t be a dick, right?” Dean holds a hand up to stop Sam from responding. “Look, I just wanna sleep and get back home, okay?”

“Okay, Dean.”

*

Dean’s antsy the whole drive home, fingers tapping along the wheel in time to Black Sabbath, leg jiggling up and down, and when the bunker finally comes into view and he spots Cas’ truck outside, Dean feels like he can breathe a little easier.

Cas is leaning against the truck, his eyes on the Impala as Dean pulls in behind the truck and switches the engine off, pausing behind the wheel and taking in the sight of Cas; trenchcoat still on, tie a little crooked, the wind messing his hair up, and the slight upturn of his mouth as he looks at Dean.

Almost on autopilot Dean gets out of the car and walks towards Cas, and as soon as as is within reach, he cups Cas’ face with one hand and draws him in for a kiss. More than anything, the feel of Cas’ chapped lips against his is the feeling of home, and all Dean wants to do is let himself get lost in that for as long as he possibly can. Too soon, Dean has to pull away to breathe, resting their foreheads together he smiles. “Hi, Cas. Welcome home.”

There’s an answering smile on Cas’ face and this—Dean knows Cas will have to leave again soon, that Lucifer won’t stay hidden for long, but this time he knows Cas will come back. That’s all he needs.


End file.
